Autumn was upon them once more, the changing of seasons on the breeze. The tang of greenery decay faint on the wind. The sun sinking lower, earlier in the day. It left the Weyrbowl getting darker earlier and earlier, and left Heimdath all too happy to embrace the darkness of night.

Under the twinkling of the evening light, Heimdath gently padded out to sit on her ledge. It was rather quiet, with Ngawanth missing for the evening. She missed her sister’s company, but sometimes… Sometimes it was rather nice to have the space alone. The bright greens of her sister was so lovely to have around, especially as their riders had finally stopped dancing around one another. Her thoughts were less likely to be muddled if she had some privacy to sort them all out, however, and oh -- how so much had been on her mind.

Returning to active duty had been good for her and Hers. Routine, drive to protect and do the best they could in every day.

Days started to blend together into months of a soft, gentle life.

She was happy… for the most part.

Samodith’s rising had caught her off guard -- not for the weyrling rising for a second time, but for the odd pull in her chest to chase after the younger green. She was… stunning, lovely in ways that reminded Heimdath of her own lovely sisters. She had never felt the true pull to chasing another green, but Samodith felt the opposite of everything Heimdath was -- elegant in limb over gangly and thin, right amount of weight and curve to Heimdath’s own skeletal thin frame. Even personality-wise, the younger green had seemed her antithesis; confident, charming, sure of herself…

Everything that Heimdath was not.

The bite that she’d taken from her had opened her eyes moderately. Though she was certain that there hadn’t been any ill will behind the chomp, it had been half the reason behind why she hid on the lip of her ledge.

The other half had been… him.

She hadn’t expected him to chase Samodith, though she doesn’t suppose why the sight of him should have been a shock. He was a light in the dark, her dark -- and likely many others. Handsome in color, a delight in personality. Her hearts were woefully smitten, for she knew she would never have the same allure as so many pretty greens that filled the weyrs of High Reaches. Yet she pads forward on soft steps, staring from the edge of her weyr to the ledge she knew he shared with their brother.

Her hearts ached to see him, to talk to him -- no dragon else could lift her mood like his sunny disposition.

Heimdath mantled her wings, raising up to perhaps take the short glide between ledges -- and fell back onto her haunches. Popping up to circle around the plateau of stone restlessly. Samodith’s flight had done nothing for the restlessness in her hearts, had not scratched the itch under her hide.

Like a shot, Heimdath jumped from her ledge, circled once, twice -- before climbing to the fireheights to salvage some of the last dredges of sun and warmth for the day.

Not yet.
Not today, anyhow.

For now, she'd still be fine.